In Italy there is not a moment when you could afford not to think about an earthquake, because it would be like not caring enough about the unexpected. The main characteristic of the unexpected is that it presents itself without any warning, without being preceded by any minimally perceptible symptoms. The unexpected is the suddenness that reveals our weaknesses, left in that moment without any defense. Come to think of it, the Italian earthquakes that have occurred and those that will inevitably occur are the unveiling of a people and its history. The sudden destruction makes the veil of quietness, the protector of all tranquility, fall. A few seconds, and a land that trembles and shakes bring back to the moment of childbirth, when coming out of a mother’s womb one suffers the first breath in the world. How strange it is. From that moment, and after nine months, everything becomes new. Because, in reality, to come into the world is not to be born, but to rise again to something new. Italy knows this very well, and for centuries it has been waiting with a latent memory but ready to resurface, the existential law best known to its sons and daughters. It is a law known to illustrious and less illustrious people, a law that hurts people and works of art.